Chapter 11: The Crown Prince's Guards
"This situation isn't right." Joseph frowned, pondering. "Have the gangs in Saint-Antoine gone mad these past few days?"
He immediately instructed Arden, "Effective immediately, everyone's patrol hours will be extended. It'll be tough, but performance bonuses will be doubled. Night patrols must be especially reinforced; it's very likely more incidents will occur."
"Understood!"
Arden saluted by placing a hand over his chest. As he turned to leave, the official in charge of police personnel management rushed in, drenched in sweat.
"Your Highness, a large... a large number of officers have suddenly requested leave... nearly a hundred, I estimate."
"Nearly a hundred?!" Arden was stunned. The core police force in Saint-Antoine, including general staff, only numbered around 400. This meant a quarter of them had requested leave.
"Yes, some claim illness, others family emergencies."
Joseph took the leave request list and quickly scanned it. All the names were former members of the police force, with the logistics team making up the majority, alongside about a dozen detectives.
And the one leading the requests for leave was none other than Bono, the Assistant Police Commissioner!
'What a coincidence. There was definitely something fishy going on here!'
Arden anxiously said, "Your Highness, we desperately need personnel right now, and they..."
Joseph turned and handed the leave list to his attendant. He said in a cold voice, "Eman, take a doctor and verify each case personally. Anyone whose reason for leave doesn't check out will be immediately dismissed!"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
'Trying to trip me up?' Joseph gave a cold smile. "Well, it'll save quite a bit in salaries. It's just a mere hundred or so people. Do they really think this will leave me helpless?"
He first ordered Arden, Marconi, and other Public Security Inspectors to lead their teams and maintain public order. Then, he signaled to the captain of the Crown Prince's Guards, who had been standing respectfully five paces away.
"Viscount Clauzel, how many of my guards are here?"
The latter replied without hesitation, "105 men, Your Highness."
Ostensibly, Joseph was only accompanied by two or three personal guards, but in reality, a large contingent of Crown Prince's Guards was always on alert within a 300-meter radius of him.
"Mobilize 90 men to patrol the streets with Marconi and his team to maintain public order."
"Your Highness," Clauzel said, standing rigidly, "This isn't proper procedure..."
"Rules are made by men; don't be so inflexible," Joseph said with a slight smile. "Besides, you are my guards, so following my orders is correct."
Clauzel's face was etched with military sternness and inflexibility. "Your Highness, our duty is to protect your safety! I believe His Majesty the King would never approve of your suggestion."
"His Majesty the King?" Joseph suddenly gave a sly smile, turned, and pulled out King Louis XVI's letter from a few days prior from a drawer. He handed the last page to the stubborn captain. "I actually do have His Majesty's approval."
"Ah?" Clauzel was greatly surprised.
Joseph pointed to the letter and read, " 'Go ahead and do as you wish... if anything goes wrong, I'll cover for you.' This is His Majesty's own handwriting. You must obey his instructions."
Clauzel froze. "But..."
Joseph then threatened, "If you don't listen to me, I'll personally lead the patrol. You just heard about the situation outside."
"You absolutely cannot go on patrol!" Clauzel hastily interjected, stopping him. After a moment of deadlock, he finally said with a pained expression, "Your Highness, Major Fersen must never know about this, and you absolutely must not leave the police station."
Major Fersen was the captain of the Palace Guards at Versailles, and Clauzel's direct superior.
"Deal!" Joseph nodded. "Don't worry, I'm still keeping 15 men here. My safety won't be an issue."
Clauzel saluted again, exited Joseph's office, and quickly walked to the open ground outside the police station. He pulled a whistle from his pocket and blew two sharp blasts.
In an instant, over a hundred Crown Prince's Guards, armed with swords and rifles, converged from all directions like a tide, forming five ranks with incredible speed.
Clauzel gestured for several officers to step forward and quietly gave them a few instructions.
"Understood!" the officers called out loudly. They then each led their subordinates, jogging out of the police station. The contingent also included 10 cavalrymen.
...
In a dilapidated house in the Wijk District, reeking of foot odor and sour vomit, several leaders of the Black Sheep Gang were clinking their drinks, roaring with laughter. "The women from White Laurel are truly something else; Saint-Antoine doesn't have such fine merchandise."
The boss took a large gulp of wine and glanced at the man with disdain. "Look at you, so unsophisticated. When it comes to courtesans, the Louvre District has the best! Thirty livres a night, and those breasts, tsk-tsk..."
A man missing half an ear grumbled, "We've earned 2,000 livres these past few days. From now on, those high-class prostitutes in the Louvre District will be ours for the taking, won't they?"
Someone immediately mocked him, "Valéan, you lost all your high-class prostitute money at the casino, didn't you? 150 livres, was it? Your hands must be cursed with bad luck, haha."
"Half-Ear" grabbed the Paris News beside him, burped, and retorted, "See this? My arson of the shoe store made it into the papers! Similion, that corrupt cop, will send over 1,000 livres tomorrow! Still worried about not having money for the brothel?"
"Look at you lot, with your petty ambitions," the boss said, pointing a wine bottle at the men in front of him. "All you think about are courtesans? Put some effort in, and we'll win that 20,000 livres. Then I'll take you to play with real noble ladies, haha!"
The gang leaders' eyes immediately gleamed with lechery, and they all howled, "We'll follow the boss!"
"The Hoss Gang is nothing! That 20,000 livres is definitely ours!"
"Tomorrow, I'll take my men out there and get it done!"
Ever since Similion promised them 1,000 livres for every major crime committed three days ago, the Black Sheep Gang had issued a death order to its members, along with heavy rewards, to create chaos at any cost. Although many of their underlings had been arrested by the police in recent days, they had still raked in a fortune.
The leaders fantasized about being flush with cash, not falling into a deep sleep until the latter half of the night.
The next day, just as the sun rose, they were jolted awake by a pounding on the door. "Boss, boss! It's bad, one of our brothers is dead!"
The boss crawled out of bed, rubbing his throbbing forehead, which ached from a hangover. He said with displeasure:
"What's all the shouting about? So someone died. Who did it? The Hoss Gang or the police?"
"Neither, boss, neither." The voice from outside trembled slightly. "It's the Royal Guards, and three men are dead..."
"The Royal Guards?" The boss frowned, kicking his sprawled-out subordinates. "Get up, quick! Go see what's going on!"
A moment later, two of the leaders grumbled curses as they left the house, taking a few subordinates with them, following the messenger.
They hadn't walked far when they saw a squad of Royal Guards approaching from across the street. Dressed in elaborate uniforms, wearing tricorn hats adorned with feathers, displaying royal insignias, and carrying well-maintained weapons, they exuded an imposing presence.
"What are these guys doing in Saint-Antoine?" "Half-Ear" asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
"They seem to be maintaining public order," the messenger subordinate said, his face long. "There are a lot of them; they're on almost every street."
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